I transmigrated and got a husband and a son!
Chapter 839: She’s not

Chapter 839: She’s not

[INFIRMARY]

Fig sat motionless in the chair between the two beds. His gaze lingered on Deborah, wrapped in bandages due to her injuries. The same applied to Hunter. Their injuries were severe, yet not fatal.

Thanks to his years of experience, Fig could tell that whoever tortured these two knew exactly what they were doing.

A deep sigh escaped Fig as he blinked away from Hunter. He turned to the window, staring at the moonlight penetrating the glass.

"I wonder if things were chaotic over there," he mused, thinking that the silence in this place was far too profound and loud. "They make me worry."

Fig raised his brows as a faint grunt caressed his ear. Turning his head, his eyes landed on Hunter, who was grunting, his face scrunched up, obviously still in pain despite receiving treatment.

"You should rest more," Fig uttered as he watched the man open his eyes. "That’s the doctor’s orders."

Hunter grunted, shifting his gaze to the man sitting in the chair between their beds. He glanced at the other bed, only to see Deborah still unconscious. Deep lines appeared between his brows, confused, only to remember the occurrence before he fell unconscious.

"Hah." He let out a deep exhale, setting his attention back to Fig. "Where did you take us?"

"To a place where people will treat you without question."

Hunter raised his brows and then bit his tongue. Places like this exist. Hospitals and establishments that were only meant for felons like them to use. Hunter learned that deeply after working for Dragon.

"If you’re worried, don’t be," Fig reassured, guessing Hunter was bothered about something. "You’re safe in here. The medical director of this facility is a good friend of mine."

"I know." Hunter breathed out. "After working for Dragon for a long time, I understand the minds of people like you. You won’t take me here if you don’t think they’d keep us alive."

"If you understand that, then you should rest more." Fig jerked his chin to him. "Your top priority is to recover—"

"Why are you helping us?" Hunter inquired, stopping Fig mid-sentence. "Dragon is a formidable opponent. I don’t think you’d get anything helpful, or the benefits of helping us equate to the consequences of going against that man."

Fig opened his mouth but ended up shutting it. He studied the patient for a moment and then sighed.

"I’m not helping you," he answered, casting a quick glance at the unconscious Deborah. "You were just lucky you were with her at that time."

"What do you want from her?"

"You claimed to have worked for Dragon for years." Fig slowly returned his attention to the man. "But your line of questions doesn’t make sense to me."

Hunter furrowed his brows at Fig’s reply. Seeing his expression, the latter nodded in understanding.

"I guess it’s not like that in his organization. Makes sense. He used to hate it," Fig murmured while nodding in understanding. Meanwhile, Hunter’s already furrowed brows deepened.

"What are you saying?"

"I’m saying I don’t know." Fig snapped his eyes back to Hunter. "I’m simply taking orders. All I know is the mission I was told to complete. For what reason this mission is formed is something that doesn’t concern me."

Hunter scoffed at the silly excuse Fig spewed. And yet, the major part of him told him that what the man uttered was nothing but the truth.

"You... don’t ask questions?" he asked almost awkwardly.

"What for?" Fig cocked his head a little to the side. "I trust my boss. And I know everything she says and does has a reason. That’s enough for me."

"How nice... to simply rely on trust." Hunter couldn’t help but chuckle, only to wince. "That’s new to me. Even after spending many years in the underground, trust seemed to be a new concept to me."

"That’s understandable." Fig nodded. "Frank betrayed the only person who trusted him without reason. It’s a curse he put upon himself. He betrayed Hera, and now, trust is no longer valuable to him. I’m not surprised that this curse spread throughout the organization he created. What a lonely life he chose."

Hunter slightly relaxed his furrowed brows, unable to distinguish if Fig was being sarcastic or sentimental. Fig’s tone was far too plain to know for sure.

"You’re a part of the Reapers?" he asked.

"I was." Fig shrugged. "The Reapers disbanded around six years ago. Many of the members joined another organization, which is a little silly for me. Even so, that’s the decision they made after Hera’s death."

"Hera isn’t dead."

Fig raised his brows, watching Hunter take a deep breath.

"Hera isn’t dead," Hunter repeated under his breath. "She’s alive, and she’s with Dragon now. I’m sorry to say this, but Hera is no longer the Hera you probably know. I didn’t even recognize her, even though I hadn’t met her in the past."

Hunter paused as he took another deep breath after speaking in one go. "She... Hera Cruel is nothing but a Dragon’s doll. He erased all her memories by frying her brain, and now she had become foolish. If not, then no offense. She had become stupid."

A wave of silence descended into the room after Hunter’s last remarks. His eyes shook a little, trying to see any changes in Fig’s expression under the dim light of the room. Much to his dismay, not only did Fig not have any reaction, but he stared at Hunter blankly.

"Did you... did you hear me?" Hunter inquired, in case Fig wasn’t listening to him.

"She’s not." Fig shook his head, answering several seconds after Hunter’s inquiry.

"You have to believe me. Hera is alive—"

"I know she’s alive," Fig clarified. "And I also know she hasn’t changed even a bit. Or maybe she did—trying to."

"Huh?"

"If you’re only going to tell me things that I already know, then I advise you to conserve that energy instead." He advised genuinely. "I don’t plan to stay and look after you forever. Go back to sleep."